


the downside of denial

by shatteredhourglass



Series: Winterhawk Bingo [19]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward Crush, He's just so horny for clint i'm so sorry, M/M, POV Bucky Barnes, Short & Sweet, Thirsty Bucky Barnes, This Is STUPID, clint barton is HOT, he's just
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:29:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23360059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shatteredhourglass/pseuds/shatteredhourglass
Summary: Bucky's not going back to the gym anytime soon.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Series: Winterhawk Bingo [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1443160
Comments: 60
Kudos: 359
Collections: Winterhawk Bingo





	the downside of denial

“You know that we don’t have to get up at the asscrack of dawn when there ain’t an emergency, right?”

“I know,” Steve says. “But why waste the morning when I can get something done, get the blood pumping? That’s just me. You’re welcome to sleep in until lunchtime if that’s what you really want.”

“The last time I tried that you opened the curtains on me,” Bucky grumbles. “And the time before that you turned on the damn blender for a smoothie. No, I’ll do your stupid exercise thing, but I’m gonna complain about it too.”

“I’m not complaining. I like hanging out with you,” Steve says as they enter the elevator, elbows Bucky in the ribs gently.

Bucky elbows him back as the elevator heads down. “Punk. What about all your other friends?”

“You’re my favourite,” Steve reasons. Bucky raises an eyebrow and he deflates. “Fine. Sam’s moving back to DC and Natasha’s away on a mission. She’ll be gone for the next few weeks.”

“Huh. Wanda going to be okay without her?”

Wanda’s taken on a punishing training schedule since Pietro got hurt last month. He’s fine now, but it scared the hell out of Wanda. Watching her scream and clutch at his body had been borderline traumatic for even _Bucky_ and he’s barely friends with the girl. Since it happened she’s spent every morning in the gym with Natasha, pushing herself harder and faster.

Pietro was eating an entire cold pizza the last time Bucky saw him, which was last week. The kid’s hard to keep track of.

“I think she asked Clint to take over,” Steve says. “Should be interesting.”

“Really? I’ve never seen him practice anything except for the bow.”

“I don’t think he buys into the daily training thing like everyone else does,” Steve comments. “Although sometimes I find katanas in my laundry, and they’re not anyone else’s.”

Bucky tries to imagine Clint with a sword in each hand. Then he has to _stop_ imagining it because his workout pants aren’t loose enough for that kind of imagery, and especially not in front of Steve. _Fuck_ , though. The bow’s bad enough already.

Steve pushes open the doors to the gym and Bucky walks through, looking around.

He spots Wanda instantly because of the bright red shirt and pants she’s wearing. They’re almost painful to look at and Bucky _thinks_ it’s because of something Vision said about liking red, which is interesting.

What’s more interesting is that _Clint’s_ decided to wear sports clothing as well. Bucky mostly sees him in black leather and purple vests, sometimes sweatpants that look so old they’re about to disintegrate and hoodies that definitely belong to someone much smaller than him. (He’s pretty sure _those_ are stolen from either Natasha or Wanda.)

Bucky looks and he’s greeted with a generous eyeful of Clint Barton in a Christmas sweater - it’s July, what the fuck - and tight, clinging Black Widow shorts. Honestly, he’s not even sure they should be _called_ shorts with how small they are.

Ah. Clint’s trying to kill him. That’s how it is.

“You’re not stretching out your left leg enough,” Clint’s saying to Wanda. “It’s meant to be like this, watch.”

Bucky’s not really paying attention - he’s seen Natasha go through training sessions every morning, it’s nothing exciting - so he’s left unprepared when he glances to the side and sees Clint twisted into some unfathomable, slightly suggestive pose.

Steve can’t bend for shit. He doesn’t need to, really, so Bucky’s half-expecting the same from Clint. It’s not like Clint ever acts graceful either, except right now he’s pretzeling himself with ease, grinning up at Wanda as he points a finger towards his own knee where it’s above his head. Wanda’s looking thoughtful and Bucky has _no idea_ how she stays focused when her trainer has all that going on.

“Buck?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says distractedly. “What do you want?”

“You exercising or are you just gonna stand there for an hour?”

“Fuck off,” he tells Steve, who raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Punk.”

“I’m not going to stop you,” Steve replies as he turns and heads for the treadmills.

Bucky follows, because that’s what he came here for. He’s not actually going to stand here and ogle Clint while he stretches. That’d be superficial at the least, and absolutely pathetic at the worst. He doesn’t turn around when Clint grunts, just keeps his eyes on the treadmill next to Steve and sets it up.

JARVIS’ control of the gym equipment is programmed to deal with enhanced individuals, so the settings have extreme levels for supersoldiers. Bucky watches Steve pick the second-highest setting and selects a speed that’s a lot slower before he starts. It’s practice, not a marathon.

Steve gives him maybe five minutes of silence before he starts being a pain in the ass.

“Are we ever going to talk about it?”

“About what?”

“About you and…” Steve glances sideways to give him a smile. It’s encouraging and ever-so-slightly teasing with how it’s sitting on Steve’s face. “…this thing you’ve got, for Clint.”

“I don’t have a thing for him,” Bucky says, keeps his voice flat and disinterested.

“Sure you don’t,” Steve says, the absolute dick. “Must be someone else who keeps looking at him like he’s the sun. They look a whole lot like you, though.”

“Fuck off, Rogers.”

“I’m just saying,” Steve reasons. “Why don’t you say something to him? I’m pretty sure he’s interested and even if he isn’t, he wouldn’t be a jerk about it.”

“ _Steve_.”

“Might be worth a try, you know? I know dating hasn’t really been on your mind since you got here, but if you’re attracted to him and he’s attracted to you, why not?”

Bucky turns his head to shoot Steve a glare, sees Clint has his back to them. Thank goodness he hasn’t noticed their conversation, because fucking hell. “I am _not_ attracted to Barton in any way, shape or form and I don’t have any fuckin’ idea _why_ you would think-”

Clint chooses that moment to bend over, and Bucky’s feet choose that moment to trip over themselves.

He falls to the ground with a painful thump and has the clarity to roll to the side and out of the treadmill’s path, but that’s all he’s got before he gives up. His head hurts. His _ass_ hurts. Every nerve in his body is asking him why the fuck he’d suddenly forgotten how to run when he’s been doing it for a century and all he can do is groan.

So much for denying it.

“If you say a fucking word I’m going to use your ribcage as a hat,” he says without opening his eyes.

“Is that how you charm all the girls, Barnes?”

Bucky blinks up at a different blond than the one he’s expecting.

Fuck.

Clint’s got his head tipped to the side curiously, leaning over Bucky where he’s sprawled on the floor. His hair’s all messed up from being on the mats, flat in some places and sticking up with no regard for gravity in others. He looks messy and a little roguish in that way he always does, and when his lips quirk up into a grin it’s even worse.

Bucky covers his face. “Go away.”

“Buck, you alright?”

_That’s_ Steve’s voice. “Fuck off,” he mutters.

“I’m going to go and get him some water,” Steve says. “I don’t think he can get a concussion, but we’d better look after his bruised ego anyway.”

Bucky kicks at his ankle as he walks past. It doesn’t connect with Steve’s leg because he’s not looking, but it’s satisfying to try. Clint laughs at them quietly and then there’s a rustle of clothing and a faint warmth from somewhere beyond his arm.

“We all fall down every now and then,” Clint says, the quiet amusement in his voice sending a shiver down Bucky’s spine. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Bucky agrees reluctantly. He doesn’t remove his hand from his face. If he faces the world right now he’ll have to face the fact that he tripped because he was too busy _looking at_ _Clint Barton’s ass_ and while it’s absolutely worth falling over for, it’s still humiliating. He’s pretty much proved Steve’s point, too.

He’s expecting Clint to get up and leave. Maybe laugh at him some more.

Instead he gets fingers brushing softly over the exposed skin of his stomach where his shirt’s ridden up. They’re calloused, a little rough against the curve of Bucky’s waist.

Clint pulls back a second later and Bucky reacts without thinking, opens his mouth to ask him to touch again. He doesn’t get that far because he has _some_ self-restraint, but he does lift his hand so he can see Clint frowning at his stomach.

“You’re bleeding,” Clint says.

“It’s fine,” Bucky says, sits up. His face feels like it’s on fire. “I don’t- it’ll heal quick enough anyway.”

“Hold on,” Clint tells him, pushes him down again. He doesn’t use any kind of force but Bucky goes anyway like he’s been hypnotized by those hands, can’t stop himself. Clint fusses around with something out of view and Bucky just stares at the side of his face, at the pale scar over his eyebrow and the soft curve of his lips.

Clint comes out with a bright pink bandaid, grins at Bucky so blindingly that Bucky’s train of thought disappears like a leaf in a hurricane. Bucky just stares as he peels off the backing and then he’s smoothing it over the cut Bucky hasn’t even looked at with careful hands.

“All better,” Clint announces. He’s still wearing those _fucking_ shorts.

“There’s no point,” Bucky says. “It’ll be gone in ten minutes.”

Clint cocks his head to the side. “Yeah, but now you’ve got a sweet pink bandaid.”

Oh god. He’s _cute_ and Bucky’s quite possibly going to die right here, even with the bandaid. This is how he dies. Rest in peace, James Buchanan Barnes, killed in an untimely manner by Clint Barton’s stupid face. He must spend too much time staring because Clint makes a thoughtful face at him and then his eyes light up with an idea.

“I know what’ll help,” he says, and then he leans down and presses his lips to the bandaid.

Bucky covers his face again.

He’s not coming back to the gym, _ever_.

**Author's Note:**

> Winterhawk Bingo Square: Working Out Together


End file.
